


a fool in love with you

by Anonymous



Series: starkerotic's fic collection [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hogwarts AU, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Misunderstandings, love potion, unknowing love potion recipient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21946012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Don’t you two have your own tables to sit at?”It’s a question without any fire behind it; since the Battle, most Hogwarts students only care about separation of Houses when it comes to Quidditch and the competition of House points, a relatively tame thing compared to the stories Howard liked to spout to Tony before he reached school age, along with the outdated Pureblood nonsense that Tony could never bring himself to believe in - especially once he met Peter, one of the cleverest students in their year (right alongside Tony) and aMuggleborn, to Howard’s distaste.Clint takes a healthy helping (nearly an entire plate, so actually perhaps notthathealthy) of sausage links, snags another empty plate to stack pancakes on before dousing them with syrup, and replies, a mouthful of pork in his mouth, “You looked like a lost puppy without your boyfriend, and I’m a sucker when it comes to rescuing puppies in need.”
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: starkerotic's fic collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1384960
Comments: 3
Kudos: 127
Collections: Anonymous





	a fool in love with you

**Author's Note:**

> my starkersecretsanta2019 gift for areluctantsblog on tumblr.
> 
> their prompt: Hogwarts au with Peter and Tony both in Ravenclaw and in their seventh year. They are best friend since day one and pining for each other for at least 2 years. Tony’s family is a mess, so he stays for the Christmas break and Peter stays with him. Over the break one of them accidentally consumes some badly brewed love potion (not brewed by either of them). The potion’s effects are up to you, but of course complications and misunderstandings ensue. Eventually however, the accident helps them get together. Bonus for any other avengers as their hogwarts friends/aquaintances.

“You didn’t have to give up your Christmas break with May,” mutters Tony as he and Peter stride easily through the mostly empty corridor, silent but for the vague echoes of Peeves’ cackle and a third year’s disgusted cries of dismay. “I’d have been fine by myself.” (Peter told him once that the Muggles consider _pride_ an undesirable trait, a sin rather than a virtue; Tony has never considered himself a _virtuous_ man and so allows that damnable quality to keep his lips sealed, the _thank you for staying with me_ unsaid, lingering on the tip of his tongue.)

Peter bumps his shoulder to Tony’s, an even height after the younger’s growth spurt over the summer holiday. “No one should spend Christmas alone,” he informs his fellow seventh year, a fact to him rather than a hopeful wish. He cuts his eyes to Tony’s, his teeth nibbling on his lower lip for half a moment before he adds an amused, “I was going to invite you to our Christmas, but Happy wrote that he was going to surprise Aunt May with a trip, Muggle-style, back home to New York for the ball drop, since she let slip that she misses it all.”

There’s a gentle thrill, a wave of affection that rolls smoothly through Tony’s body from his chest; he does his best to ignore it. “‘Let slip’,” Tony snorts, and Peter laughs, making the soft tide of sentiment feel more like a tsunami. “That woman’s probably been dropping hints all year for Happy, like breadcrumbs for a pigeon.”

“Be that as it may,” Peter says haughtily, barely managing to restrain his grin as he attempts to look serious, “I thought it would be better to let Aunt May have a nice trip without having to worry about me possibly missing the train back without her here to hound- I mean, help.”

They stick together until they reach the Great Hall and a call of Peter’s name catches the younger Ravenclaw’s attention; a familiar girl waves at Peter from their House table, nods at the empty seat next to her. Peter offers Tony an apologetic smile. “I’ll meet you in the common room after?”

“Sounds good.”

Tony’s breath is cut short at the bright smile Peter tosses over his shoulder as he runs off to join Michelle Jones ( _MJ to you, Stark_ ) - who is staring intently at Tony, her hazel eyes beautiful and narrowed and knowing; there’s a moment of concern, of _fear_ stuck in Tony’s throat, but then her gaze darts to Peter and back to Tony, and the look in her eye is more _pitying_ than devious, which is- Well, it’s _insulting_ , but yeah, he gets it.

“You’re blocking the entrance, friend!”

The booming voice makes him (and several other students) jump, but the massive hand that lands on Tony’s shoulder keeps his feet firmly on the stone floor. “Thor,” Tony gasps out, clutching at his chest dramatically, “give a guy some warning, huh?” He swats at the blond seventh year until the other boy releases him, flashes one more glance at Peter, laughing easily with MJ, and makes his way to the sparsely inhabited Ravenclaw table, most of their Housemates having chosen to spend the holiday with their families.

Tony scowls when Thor and Clint Barton, a Hufflepuff, sit on either side of him.

“Don’t you two have your own tables to sit at?”

It’s a question without any fire behind it; since the Battle, most Hogwarts students only care about separation of Houses when it comes to Quidditch and the competition of House points, a relatively tame thing compared to the stories Howard liked to spout to Tony before he reached school age, along with the outdated Pureblood nonsense that Tony could never bring himself to believe in - especially once he met Peter, one of the cleverest students in their year (right alongside Tony) and a _Muggleborn_ , to Howard’s distaste.

Clint takes a healthy helping (nearly an entire plate, so actually perhaps not _that_ healthy) of sausage links, snags another empty plate to stack pancakes on before dousing them with syrup, and replies, a mouthful of pork in his mouth, “You looked like a lost puppy without your boyfriend, and I’m a sucker when it comes to rescuing puppies in need.”

Thor laughs, a thunderous sound, even in the cavernous Great Hall, drawing looks from some of his Gryffindor Housemates at the neighboring table.

Tony sighs and puts his head in his hands. “Peter’s not-”

“-aware of your schoolboy crush on him? We know. Merlin, do we _know_.”

Tony lifts his head as Natasha Romanov, fellow Ravenclaw and Tony’s sometimes frenemy, slides gracefully onto the bench in front of him, her green eyes flicking to where Peter and MJ sit, closest to the staff table. She gives Tony _a look_ , one that he’s come to recognize as her _get your shit together, Stark_ look.

“I’m sorry,” Tony apologizes, putting on a mocking expression of deep thought, “but I don’t remember inviting any of you to sit with me _or_ offer up your opinions of my friendship with Peter.”

“Yes, friends,” interjects Thor, grabbing up a goblet of pumpkin juice and a plate of bacon. “Stark will ask his love to be with him when he is ready!”

“Shut up, Thor.”

*

The Ravenclaw common room is packed with most of its remaining students - fifth, sixth, and seventh years, mainly - and the sound of the Weird Sisters is playing from an old wireless radio Tony had abandoned in his third year; someone (and he has a sneaking suspicion that it was Peter) had put on Celestina Warbeck for a song, but after moaning and groaning from others, it had been changed. (Tony, personally, hadn’t minded; the old Christmas song had reminded him of the better days of his childhood, his mother humming “Nothing Like a Holiday Spell” as she charmed ornaments and decorations into their places, dancing with Tony and allowing him to switch them about as he pleased, her laughter the most magical thing in the room.)

MJ’s familiar scent - almonds and vanilla, a hint of cinnamon just beneath the surface - reaches him before she does. “You ever going to tell him how you feel?” she asks, nodding in the direction Tony has been staring since he’d come for a refill of butterbeer.

Peter is smiling, lovely and loose and happy, as he rambles to Clint (and how did he even get in? He spies Natasha lurking close by and deduces that she must have let the Hufflepuff through the door) about a charm Flitwick had personally taught him the week before, arms waving wildly, very nearly tipping the Party Punch Tony had concocted specifically for him (the rest of it is in a cauldron tucked away in their dormitory, away from grabby hands and anyone sharing Peter’s sweet tooth) over a fifth year’s head. Tony’s chest is tight with the sheer amount of _fondness_ he feels for him.

“What we have,” Tony begins slowly, taking a sip of butterbeer, “it’s… enough.”

“You think you have the right to make that decision for him?” MJ isn’t looking at him when Tony glances at her, but the undertone of righteous anger in her voice is clear. “If it’s because you care what your _Pureblood_ family will think of-”

“No!” Tony’s shout gathers the attention of the closest Ravenclaws, all looking curious enough to get involved until MJ takes out her wand; no one is _that_ foolish. Tony moves to face MJ full-on, his own fury obvious. “I’ve never cared about Peter’s heritage, magical or not, and I care even _less_ about what _Howard_ would think if I ever-” He breaks off, rubs the back of his burning neck.

“If you ever build up the balls to tell Peter you’ve been in love with him since fifth year,” she finishes, blunt as ever. Her eyes never leave Tony’s.

“Don’t you have your own love life to worry about? Or are you trying to live vicariously?” He aims a pointed look toward a girl in their year he’s never spoken to, but listens to Peter tease MJ about at least once a week - _Liz_ , he thinks.

Hazel eyes, fierce and promising all manner of pain, narrow. “I’m just telling you: Don’t make a decision for Peter, especially without ever even giving him the chance to make his own.” She purses her lips, looking unhappy. “He just might surprise you.”

He’s left alone for the rest of the party.

*

“Tony.”

Peter’s voice is small, alarming Tony enough that he’s turning around before he realizes that he’s dropped his goblet, contents soaking the floor and the edges of the area rug in the center of the dormitory. His complexion is a frightening pallor, though his eyes are clear of any sickly cloud, his pupils enlarged as they stare directly at Tony.

“Peter?” Tony takes a step toward the other boy, his hands up and palm-out. “Petey, you okay?”

“I’m fine.” The words, Peter’s voice, have a dreamy quality about them. “Hey, Tony?”

The older boy moves closer. “What’s up, Pete?” He presses the back of his hand to Peter’s cheek, to his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Peter shifts, presses into Tony’s touch, a contented smile on his lips. “You’re always so good to me,” he mumbles, eyes closed. He breathes out a sweet sigh. “I love you, Tony.”

Tony freezes. He doesn’t dare to even _breathe_. 

“Pete.” His voice breaks, and he’s forced to clear it, made to take in a much-needed breath of air. He places his hands in a safe zone - the bends of Peter’s elbows, holding the other boy back from stepping nearer - and tries again. “Peter, hey, I need you to look at me.”

Peter obeys easily, his eyes caramel drizzled with honey droplets, and beams at Tony. “I love looking at you, too.” His pupils are still huge, but he looks unfocused now.

There’s a dark thought, one that makes a type of anger he’s never felt before rise high in his throat. _Don’t make a decision for Peter, especially without ever even giving him the chance to make his own. He just might surprise you._ Is this her way of forcing Tony to think of the possibility? Slipping her own friend a love potion? He’s positive that’s what this is; they’ve studied the effects of them often enough in Potions.

Would MJ really do this? He can’t be certain, but he hopes not.

Taking another deep breath, Tony gives in for just a moment, leans in to press his forehead to Peter’s until the other boy tilts his head, closes his beautiful eyes. He pulls back.

“We need to go to the hospital wing, Pete,” he tells Peter, who looks at him with a mixture of confusion and distress.

“Are you sick?” Nimble fingers move to Tony’s face, mimic his actions from minutes earlier.

Tony huffs out a gruff laugh. “No, Peter.” There’s no hiding how hoarse his voice is now, no way of lying to himself about why his throat is so tight, his stomach flipping and heart pounding. _I’ve dreamed of him looking at me this way since we were fifteen; now it’s happened, and it’s still not real._ “I think you might be, though - nothing too serious,” he adds at Peter’s frightened look. “Maybe just a little bit of the flu; nothing Madam Pomfrey and some Pepperup Potion can’t fix, right?” He smiles as genuinely as he can until Peter relaxes. “Let’s make our way, huh?”

The smile that spreads over Peter’s face isn’t as bright as his usual, as intent, but it’s still the most beautiful thing Tony can ever imagine seeing. “I’d go anywhere with you, Tony.”

Tony’s heart hurts.

*

“Love potions! Don’t know _why_ the Ministry hasn’t banned the horrid things already! Students sneaking contraband into the school, forcing classmates to act like lovesick fools! Minerva will hear from me!” Madam Pomfrey pays no mind to Tony as she settles Peter into the sickbed, fluffing pillows and snapping sheets and blankets into place. “Poor dear,” she tuts as Peter simply stares at her.

Tony shuffles his feet, an uncharacteristic show of anxiety. “Um, Madam Pomfrey? He’ll be alright, though, right?”

The healer turns on her heel to face Tony, her eyes soft as she takes in his worry. “Well, of course he’ll be alright. One of the Weasley potions, I’ll wager; the effects don’t last near as long as an expertly-brewed love potion and, as Mister Parker’s symptoms seem to only have just started?” Tony nods. “Well, I’ll give it the night and a bit of this,” she lifts a bowl filled with a concoction she’s had self-stirring for the last several minutes, “and he’ll be right as rain.” She turns, urges Peter to drink the mixture. “I’d say he’d not have done anything _too_ wild, but it’s still a good thing you brought him straight here, Mister Stark. As far as it looks, he’s only experiencing a little nausea, a slight fever; they should be gone by the morning. You may stay, if you like, but _no_ other visitors until the morning, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With a few more unflattering words about love potions and students, Madam Pomfrey whirls and disappears into her office, the door shutting silently behind her.

“Tony?”

Tony turns, meeting Peter’s gaze, still not focused enough for Tony’s liking, though he’s gotten a bit of his color back. “Yeah, Pete?”

The other boy holds out his hand.

“I, um. I don’t think that’s a good idea, Peter.”

Peter frowns and, well, Tony has never been able to stomach seeing Peter upset. He finds himself settled on the bedside chair, but he refuses to reach for Peter’s outstretched hand.

“Tony, I-”

“Don’t,” pleads Tony, looking anywhere but at Peter. He suddenly finds the thought of eye contact painful. “Don’t say anything, Peter. It’s the potion talking.”

There’s a rustle of bedsheets. “But, Tony.” His voice is still softer than normal, still possesses the airy quality from earlier. “It’s not all-”

“You’ll feel better in the morning, Pete.” Tony forces cheer and unaffected brightness into his own voice; finally, he looks at Peter and-

It’s a mistake.

Peter’s eyes are still glossy with the effects of the potion, but the sheen of unshed tears is unmistakable. “Tony, I’m-”

“It’s okay, Peter. Just, um-” Tony swallows, the large blockage in his throat making it more difficult than it should be, making it harder to breathe. “Just go to sleep, alright? Madam Pomfrey says you should feel better tomorrow.”

Peter remains silent while Tony makes himself at home in the neighboring bed.

(He’s gone before Tony wakes the next morning.)

*

In all honesty, Tony is surprised it takes MJ so long to corner him; as it is, she waits until New Year’s Eve, another party in the common room below in full swing as Tony hides away in the dormitory, one of Peter’s Muggle-authored novels in his lap.

“Alright.” The door slams behind her. “What’s your deal?”

Tony’s hands tighten around the edges of the book. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Combat boots come into his peripheral as MJ stomps over to him, snatches the open book from his grasp. “Peter,” she spits at him and tosses the novel on his bedside table. “You’ve been avoiding him since Christmas.”

It’s… not a lie, really, but not entirely the truth, either. “I haven’t been _avoiding_ him.” Her expression turns _furious_ enough that he shifts off the bed, stands on the opposite side. “I haven’t!” he insists, crossing his arms defensively. “I’ve been- Look, Peter’s not wanted to be around me since the night _someone_ doused him with love potion.”

MJ’s eyes flash. “ _Someone_ ?” she repeats. “Are you implying that _I_ drugged Peter?” She makes a move as if to round the four-poster and-

Wow, okay, so maybe that was a stupid thought to begin with, but… “ _You_ said I should give him a chance to make his own decision-”

“Which you were never going to do.”

“-and then _suddenly_ here he is, declaring his love for me like I’ve wanted him to do for _years_ , but it was all _a lie_ because someone decided to give him a little incentive to-”

“It wasn’t MJ,” a quiet voice interrupts.

Tony and MJ both look toward the dormitory door, which had opened without either of them noticing. Peter stands there, his fingers twisted together in a way that Tony knows means he’s upset. There’s an uncharacteristic anger in his doe eyes as he looks at Tony.

“One of the fifth-year girls - Christine, I think - noticed you kept coming up here to get my drink that night, but she didn’t know it was for me. She slipped up here and put a bit of the potion in the cauldron.” He pulls in a breath. “It’s one of the potions where the drinker is supposed to fall in love with the first person he or she sees after the first sip, but you weren’t drinking it, so…”

Yes… Tony vaguely remembers a young girl, a blonde, bumping into him at the foot of the stairs that night, Peter’s drink in his hand, her touch lingering, her smile a touch too friendly…

Peter is still talking, rambling. “…MJ would never have done that whether it was a banned substance or not, anyway, not when she knows how I-” Silence falls abruptly, Peter’s eyes widening as he claps his clasped hands over his mouth.

At Tony’s side, MJ moves, slipping by Peter to exit the room, but not before telling Peter in a firm tone, “Let him make his own decision; he may just surprise you,” glaring at Tony when his jaw drops open.

_That little witch._

Nothing is said for a few moments after she leaves, neither Peter nor Tony willing to break the uneasy silence.

Peter is the one to gather his courage first. “It may have been a love potion that night,” he says, swallowing audibly, eyes darting from one corner of the room to the next before they finally land on Tony, who is frozen in place, “but I’ve wanted to say those words since fifth year.” He takes a step toward Tony - just one - and waits.

“I-” It’s hard to speak with the lump in his throat, his breath caught in his windpipe. “I’m- I don’t know what-” The words won’t come, but his feet unstick from their places on the floor, move forward without his permission.

Peter’s fingers - long and slim and just as perfect as the rest of him - are no longer tangled together; instead, they are tapping anxiously at his thighs, nerves apparent. “I thought that- I thought that I’d made you uncomfortable.” His breaths are short, choppy, but his eyes are clear, the soft candlelight of the dormitory illuminating them beautifully, amber and liquid gold, a perfect replication of Felix Felicis. “You wouldn’t look at me when I tried to tell you that it wasn’t _all_ the love potion,” he explains, melodic voice low and sad. “I thought that- that I’d ruined the chance of having you in my life in any capacity.”

“What… Why would you think that?” The incredulity Tony feels cannot be hidden. “I’ve been in love with you since you charmed your Defense book to chase Rogers down the third floor corridor.”

Peter is caught off-guard, his sudden laughter a relief. “That’s all it took?” he teases, looking a little sheepish, a lot amused, a little like he wants to cry.

“I’m easy,” Tony shrugs and his feet take another step forward, matching Peter’s. “As much as you know I hate Howard, you made sure Rogers never put my family’s name in his mouth again.” Another step. “A damsel in distress is always a sucker for her knight in shining armor, right?” Step.

“You’re an idiot.” It’s whispered between them, their breaths mingling, their lips a hair’s breadth from brushing.

“An idiot in love with you.”

Peter’s eyes are hypnotic, the reflection of candle flame and starlight sparkling, captivating Tony more than Astronomy ever has.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
